


Insomnial Midnight Rituals

by WonderAvian



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Angst, Brothers, Family, Hurt/Comfort, I want to go vomit now, Virgil plays the piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6941122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderAvian/pseuds/WonderAvian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's rare that Virgil finds himself unable to sleep nowadays. As it turns out, he isn't the only one struggling with insomnia - as well as some insecurities. First Thunderbirds story. TAG-verse. Written at night. Self-explanatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insomnial Midnight Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over two nights, staying up from 10 to 12pm on the first night to write the majority of it and from 11:30 to 12:10 on the second night to finish and edit the story. Therefore, the quality may be down a bit. I may have tweaked a few things here and there and I certainly have added a few headcannons in but only for this particular story. Hopefully it turned out alright. Please leave a review/comment to let me know your thoughts on the story as this was also a bit experimental.

Virgil couldn’t sleep. That in itself was strange, since Virgil usually fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Virgil was deeply reminiscent of a hibernating bear whenever he was sleeping.

If anyone Tracy or otherwise foolishly decided to lift up the blankets to reveal the middle Tracy’s sleeping face, then they would be greeted by a low growl at the intruder of the bear’s sleep and a massive hand would likely shoot out to grab such intruder’s wrist in a death grip.

It was quickly agreed by everyone living at Tracy Island to never disturb a sleeping Virgil, unless they wanted their hand to very likely either be ripped off or not be able to get it out of the bear’s grip until he woke from his much loved slumber.

Virgil, whenever questioned however, said that he never remembered committing such actions. After all, he had been asleep at the time, hadn’t he? And how could he really be to blame for his subconscious reactions? He said it with such a straight face that at first everyone was inclined to believe him.

Of course, Virgil did remember. He just never told anyone. Some part of his subconscious told his active mind that his beloved and sacred sleep had been disturbed, and somehow managed to let him know who the culprit was.

xXx

The first time Virgil was disturbed was sleeping, his instinct quickly reacted and one of his massive hands shot out and grabbed the unsuspecting blanket-lifter’s wrist and held it tightly in a death grip.

The then younger Scott had let out a very undignified squeak that he definitely would deny ever making is someone ever asked and started to freak out slightly when he realised that he seemingly wasn’t going to be getting his hand back anytime soon, and damn did his then even younger brother have a strong grip!

It took his father Jeff and younger brothers John and Gordon (Alan had not been born yet) to get Virgil to relinquish his iron-grip on the then younger Scott’s wrist, and it took them a while as they definitely did not want to wake the seemingly very grumpy and easily disturbed bear-child up.

Poor Scott, he had been very worried about his younger brother since he had the blanket over his head and wanted to make sure he had air to breathe!

Everyone made a silent, unanimous decision to let Virgil be whenever he was sleeping, and they did, until someone new or daring (such as Gordon) would come along eventually and whether they did it purposely or accidently, would get the fright of their lives.

Virgil honestly found the fact that no-one seemed to truly understand his value of sleep rather annoying. After all, it was all just part of the natural order, wasn’t it? So, one day a few months after the incident with Scott, Virgil decided to re-enact revenge by secretly nailing all of Scott’s pyjamas to the ceiling.

Needless to say, Scott was quite surprised and eventually rather miffed to find out who had done such a thing. Virgil had just smiled when Scott came to him (but only after seeing Gordon) and left the room.

Then when Alan came along, Virgil was finally able to relate to someone. The small, bright light-blue-eyed young Tracy liked to sleep as much as Virgil did, and that was saying something as he was at first just a baby, of course. 

But even as Alan got older, he still retained his love of sleep. The now fourteen year old honestly believed that the only better past time than sleeping was either to be playing video games or be piloting Thunderbird 3 on a solo mission (not that he many). The youngest Tracy also firmly believed that any opportunity to sleep was an opportunity well-spent, if there weren’t any missions or other priorities to be taken care of first (though he would gladly sleep through any of Grandma Tracy’s great cooking disasters if he could).

Yes, Alan-I-sleep-on-the-floor-Tracy was quite the sleeper. He practically worshiped sleep (though he wouldn’t tell you that if you asked).

It was because of this that Alan was quite alright with Virgil’s sleeping habits, and wholeheartedly agreed with him that their other Tracy brothers could be considered quite mad for disregarding the wonders and importance of sleep so much. Scott got up early to go either to the hangar to check his ‘bird or to the living room area to see if John had checked in. John, of course, would have gotten up before Scott to check for any rescues in the first place, and Gordon would have gotten up even earlier at the brink of dawn to do his daily swimming routine.

(It often scared Alan sometimes, how indifferent his older brothers seemed to be when it came to the natural order.)

Alan understood everything Virgil said about sleep (and also what he didn’t say).

Of course, neither Virgil nor Alan spent all their free time sleeping. That would get _waaaay_ too boring all too quickly. Besides, there was always a lot of other just as fun, useful (and definitely more actively stimulative) things to do and activities to take part in. Such as pranking unsuspecting older brothers.

But yeah, Virgil and Alan just valued their sleep a lot. Nothing too major.

xXx

When their mother died, Virgil found that it was harder to fall asleep.

He would often lie on his back in his room and just stare up at the ceiling with red-rimmed, tired eyes. He wouldn’t fall asleep until his body refused to stay awake any longer. He eventually got over crying whenever his late mother was mentioned. It took him a little longer to get over the insomnia.

Alan would often come to lie next to Virgil once he was old enough to make the journey from his own room to the middle child’s.

Virgil wouldn’t say anything, would just hold his youngest brother close to his chest and try not to cry, because if he cried, then so would little Alan. But then Alan would ask for Virgil to sing a song, or do anything to break the crushing silence, even ask him to play the piano which he had really just started to learn how to play when their mother had died, and she had been the one teaching him.

So Virgil would get up and play the piano for Alan. And, he supposed, he was not only playing it for just for Alan, but for himself, and most of all, in memory of his late mother.

While playing the piano late one night, softly of course as to not wake the other inhabitants (though he doubted they were sleeping all the time) Virgil asked Alan why he went to Virgil and not to one of his other older brothers or even his father whenever he couldn’t sleep. After all, he absolutely hero-worshipped Scott (which was understandable) and loved to go stargazing with John (which was one of his only other favourite things to do in his spare time) and admired his immediate older brother Gordon (who was still five years older than him) and all of his jokes and tricks and hoped to one day be able to pull an even bigger prank (which was a concern). After all, Virgil was just the strange middle brother whose interests were in the arts, which couldn’t be more different from his more grounded, math and science focused brothers.

Alan had tilted his head slightly at the question, as if wondering why his older brother would ask such a thing, and then replied rather unsteadily, but confident in his answer, _you understand what it is like._

And Virgil learned to stop questioning things about his littlest brother.

xXx

With time, both Virgil and Alan got over their insomnia. Virgil taught himself how to properly play the piano, and would play not just to calm himself (and Alan) down, but also just for fun, and for the fact that he simply enjoyed playing it, and found having the soft feeling of the black and white keys moving under his fingers soothed him.

But then Alan eventually grew old enough to not feel the need to be comforted every night and Virgil would stop playing the piano for a while and would go back to staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes before his eyelids finally closed.

Then their father went missing, and it was like losing their mother all over again.

Except this time, Alan did not come down to Virgil’s room at night, but preferred to stay in his own room and cry softly into his pillow.

And Virgil would stare for many hours at the ceiling until the sun eventually came over the horizon, and then and only then did the comforting folds of sleep finally take him.

_In sleep you can stop thinking. In sleep you can hide._

xXx

Virgil stared up at the ceiling in his room on Tracy Island. Counting sheep was never going to work. If he had insomnia then he may as well get up and do something useful to pass the time until he felt too tired to keep his eyes open any longer.

Still in his bedclothes, the middle child slid out of bed and moving slowly to the door, Virgil rubbed a hand tiredly over his face as he tried not to make too much noise as he carefully opened and closed to wooden door. He smiled briefly when not even a slight sound reached his ears from the old door.

Virgil stood on the landing for a moment to decide what to do with himself. Deciding that he still felt a little hungry (to be fair, he hadn’t eaten that much at dinner earlier) he made for the kitchen, making sure to make minimal noise as he passed the other occupants’ of Tracy Island respective rooms.

Virgil hesitated as he passed Alan’s room. There was no snoring to be heard from inside the youngest Tracy’s room, which was quite strange considering how loud Alan snoring usually was after a long day beforehand (or be it short day, it really made no difference).

Virgil frowned, still hesitating slightly, and raised one hand to knock against his youngest brother’s door frame, completely intending to make noise in the otherwise silent household if need be.

But then, Virgil’s frown eased slightly and he closed his eyes, lowering his hand. The days when Virgil found himself comforting his youngest brother were over. He wasn’t about to do so again just because he suspected both of them had insomnia at the same time.

Either that or Alan was playing video games very quietly (which he definitely should not be doing at such a late hour), or was finishing some last-minute homework (which in this case he should have done ages ago), or had finally stopped snoring that sounded like the engine of his ‘bird had been left on overnight (which would definitely be a welcome relief).  
Or maybe he had already left his room to get up to find something to do.

(Which was unlikely considering how Alan wasn’t much of a wondering around the house type, especially during late at night.)

Padding his way into the kitchen, Virgil opened the fridge door, intent on finding something store-bought to eat. He was in luck, as his light brown-eyed gaze happened to chance across one of Scott’s pies.

Oh, well. He could just apologise to Scott later. Although, Scott probably still wouldn’t be very happy with him for taking one of his precious pies, Virgil thought wryly to himself as he shut the automated door.

Virgil put his pie on a plate and moved to the living room. There he ate the pie in peace, savouring the moment as he probably would not get the chance to do so again. Scott was awfully protective of his pies (which was perfectly understandable considering how little good food they actually had around there).

Virgil continued to sit in silence as he finished the pie. Leaning forward only momentarily to carefully put the plate on the table in front of him, Virgil let out a sigh that he had been holding back all evening. The middle child, the, ‘heavy lifter’ as some might say, was completely exhausted. But the thing was, he just didn’t think he would ever find the peace of mind (nor the ability) to ever fall asleep until his body itself down and he finally collapsed.

Sometimes it was all too tiring being the strongman of the group. He was always relied upon by the others, usually as backup of some sort, which, with them all being part of the Tracy family and being in International Rescue meant that yes, he was more often than not required to help out every single time he went on a rescue that required his presence.

He worried and fretted for his brothers’ safety whenever they went out in the field and he was most likely stuck in Two or elsewhere using the Jaws of Life to toss some heavy metal around. Even worse was when he wasn’t out there at all but was back at home on the Island, watching tensely from afar, where he could do absolutely nothing to help out his brothers.

Being expected to always be able to keep up with the work was hard, and it took its toll on him. _Not that he’d ever let the others see…_

Virgil lay back against the couch and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep…

No. This just wasn’t going to work, was it? He had to find something to do, something useful. Now that he thought about it, though, there was no way he was going down to the hangar at this time of night… or was it perhaps morning? He hadn’t actually thought to check the time.

Glancing over to where a clock hung on the wall, Virgil read the time.

4:56am.

_Great._

Virgil rubbed his eyes again, wondering how it was possible to be have insomnia while feeling so tired. Shaking his head, Virgil mentally scowled. The physical and mental exhaustion was starting to get to him.

That just must have been it.

_Right._

Virgil got up slowly and moved to the piano. Sitting down on the seat by the pedestal, Virgil let his fingers ghost over the keys, allowing only the softest of sounds to escape and fill the air.

Heck, even if most of the Tracy Island inhabitants slept like the dead after a long and tired day of rescues Virgil _did not_ want to wake anyone up.

And speaking of not wanting to wake anyone up…

A soft padding sound reached Virgil’s ears. Too soft to be Scott’s or Gordon’s. Virgil hummed in slight irritation.

“Can’t sleep?”

He looked up from the piano to where his youngest brother was standing with his skinny arms held tightly across his also skinny chest. The baggy bedclothes he was wearing (Scott must have forced him to wear something other than his regular clothes to bed for once) only seemed to accentuate the effect.

Alan shuffled his feet and hugged himself tighter.

“I didn’t think anyone would hear me.”

Virgil narrowed his light-brown eyes when he noticed Alan shiver.

“Come here.”

Alan blinked, surprised. He unfolded his arms and padded softly over to the piano where Virgil sat. Virgil moved over slightly so that Alan could sit next to him.

Alan sat down next to Virgil and lay one of his hands over the keys. Virgil wrapped an arm around his youngest brother and gently tugged him into his side. Alan let himself be pulled into Virgil’s strong and gentle bear-like grip.

Virgil studied the youngest Tracy’s tired face with concern. There were dark bags under those so painstakingly light, bright-blue eyes.

“How long have you been up?”

Alan sniffled slightly. “I got up an hour after I went to bed, when I thought everyone else would be asleep.” Alan turned his head to look up at Virgil with tired eyes. “You know Scott is going to kill you for eating one of his pies?”

Virgil groaned quietly, causing Alan to laugh at his older brother’s misfortune. Virgil looked slyly at him.

“I could just tell dear old Scooter that you ate the pie instead of me.”

Alan’s eyes grew wide.

“You wouldn’t do that! Scott wouldn’t believe you!”

Virgil just smirked, “Who do you think he’s more likely to believe, me or you?”

Alan sagged slightly, “…you,” he muttered darkly, and sent an annoyed look up at his older brother, “That still wouldn’t be fair though.”

Virgil nodded and bowed his head.

“True. I was just teasing you, kiddo.”

Virgil ruffled his younger brother’s light blonde hair affectionately. The tension in Alan’s shoulder’s disappeared and he relaxed into Virgil’s side and closed his tired yet sleepless eyes. Virgil frowned.

“How long have you had insomnia?”

There was a pause before Alan answered.

“About a month. I usually just end up wondering around the house until I’m on the verge on collapsing.”

Virgil let out a slow, tense breath between his clenched teeth.

“Jesus Christ, Al. Why didn’t you come to me earlier?”

“…because I didn’t think you would care. And you and Scott and everyone else said that I have to learn how to be more responsible,” Alan whispered in a small voice.

Virgil’s heart just about broke. Alan thought that he didn’t care about him, and that everyone didn’t think he could cope with proper responsibility.

Turning over on the seat slightly, Virgil wrapped his strong arms around Alan’s small form, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Don’t you dare think that, Al. Of course I care about you. We all do. You are more than fine with responsibility. So don’t you ever think that neither I nor the others don’t care about you, ok?” Virgil said firmly.

Alan still didn’t look convinced.

Virgil sighed, and started rubbing one of his massive hands in comforting circles on his brother’s thin back.

“Al, whenever Scott, I or anyone else says you need to learn how to be more responsible, it’s because you just need to be just a little, teensiest bit less silly, not because you’re not capable of doing everything because you’re the youngest. Please try to believe that.”

Alan glanced up at Virgil with those wide, painstakingly light bright-blue eyes that could melt just about anyone’s heart.

“I think I can do that.”

Virgil allowed a smile of relief and slight happiness to grace his features.

“Play with me?” he asked gently.

Alan nodded slowly, a small version of his regular happy smile starting to return to his face. It was a weak, dismal parody of his original beaming grin, but it was there.

Virgil smiled back, and carefully guided Alan’s fingers over the notes.

And so together they played the piano, with soft, sad, but hopeful notes filling the room until the sun came up on the horizon.


End file.
